


Harry In A Skirt Cause Fuck Umbridge

by IRegretNothingAndEverything



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Harry in a skirt, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Sassy Harry, Umbridge goes all fucky and Harry's like 'fuck you bitch', cause y'know, that's Harry's general state of existance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 18:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IRegretNothingAndEverything/pseuds/IRegretNothingAndEverything
Summary: Legit just the title. Harry going 'fuk u umbitch'
Comments: 2
Kudos: 183





	Harry In A Skirt Cause Fuck Umbridge

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired By: https://genz-harrypotter.tumblr.com/post/185452886160/headcanon

Harry settled into his spot on the couches, leaned back against the arm rest, feet resting in Ron’s lap. Ron, at the moment, was leaning over his legs so that they were trapped in Ron’s lankiness and was hunched over an essay, trying to make any sort of heads or tails of it. It was not going well, Harry noticed, since Ron had not written a word for the past ten minutes. His quill was dry. 

That was around the time that Hermione came in, attempting to console a rather hysterical Pavarti. Harry lifted his head, then sat up, tugging at one of his feet in an effort to free himself from Ron, who sat up just long enough to let Harry free before hunching back over for a moment. It took him a moment longer to register the girl’s hysterics, but he abandoned his   
essay the moment he realized. 

“Pavarti, what’s wrong?” Harry moved over, Hermione stepping away gratefully. Out of the three of them, Harry was the best at calming someone down, though she was good at identifying the emotions in the first place. 

“It’s that no good toad, Umbridge!” She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. “There’s not a rule against it, I checked a thousand times, and nothing! She’s just being spiteful!” 

“Hermione?” Harry glanced over at her friend, since Pavarti was too upset to properly articulate what had happened. 

“Umbridge dress coded her. Said that all young women had to be wearing skirts. She’s got a detention with her tonight for wearing shorts.” Harry blinked, and leaned back a bit, taking in her appearance and realizing, yes, Pavati was wearing a pair of shorts. He would have pegged Hermione for that over the other two, but they must need a break from skirts at some point he supposed. 

Harry frowned, plan forming in his head. “Did she say exactly that?” Hermione frowned, before nodding. “No mention of male students at all?” Hermione tilted her head, definitely confused now, but Ron seemed to light up next to him.

“I think I can ask Ginny for some, hers would fit you but I don’t think there’s really any that wouldn’t be indecently short on me from her, so…” Harry nodded a bit, before looking at Parvati, smiling. 

“I got a plan. I can’t get you out of detention, but I know a little numbing spell that should keep you hand numb the entire time during the detention, and then you can go to Hermione after for some Dittany, alright?” Pavarti nodded, half consoled and half too curious about Harry’s antics to be truly upset anymore. Harry grinned at her a moment, then stepped away, following Ron over to the girl’s staircase. Hermione stared as they ascended the stairs without trouble and looked to Pavarti. 

Pavarti stared back. “Should we be worried they can do that?” Hermione shrugged at her, which, honestly, was the worst possible answer. If Hermione was unsure, the world was doomed. 

\---HP---

The next day, Harry woke a bit earlier than normal, getting dressed rather quickly. He had Defense in the afternoon, but that wouldn’t stop him. 

The skirt felt a bit weird to be wearing, but Ginny had found one that was a bit big on her, and went down to around his knees, so he found no problem with it. He hummed, gathering his things for the day and leaving the dorm. 

Harry had double transfiguration first thing that morning, and, honestly, the look on Professor MgGonagall’s face was something he was going to treasure for the rest of his life. She seemed both confused and resigned, with just that little spark of mirth in her eyes. There was a reason she was his favorite professor. 

Still, after that was lunch, then Divination, and, finally, Defense. The rest of the hours faded away through that, though Harry took note that Trelawny seemed surprised about his outfit, which made him laugh a bit after class. And she tries to pretend to be constantly peeking into the future, and she couldn’t even make a one day prediction. 

He walked into Defense with a certain air about him, confidence and a bit of fear. He never liked the classes, but dententions with the Toad were pretty bad, but he was in his seat quickly enough. Harry wasn’t sure she noticed, but there was a look in her eyes that said she had to have seen at least a glimpse of it. She wasn’t quite sure yet, no, but still. Harry felt a little gleeful at the thought of her trying to find something wrong with this. 

“Mr. Potter.” Right as the bell rang. Harry grinned, slipping a hand into the pocket of the jacket he had thrown on top of it (why the hell didn’t skirts have pockets that was all sorts of stupid) and looked up to Umbridge, smiling pleasently. 

“Yes Professor Umbridge?”

“What are you wearing?” Harry made a bit of a show looking down at himself as if checking, before looking back up to meet her eyes. 

“The uniform.” Any laughter that might have gotten in other classes was silent. Umbridge wasn’t exactly opposed to sending people to detention for happiness. He wondered, idly, if she could cast a corporeal patronus, with how vindictive and evil she was. 

“Mr. Potter, I do believe that is the girls’ uniform.” She quirked an eyebrow at him, as if catching him and Harry couldn’t help but smile. 

“Well, I checked the rule book, at least the uniform part of it, and had Miss Pince make a copy just in case, I think I have it, hold a moment.” He reached into his jacket pocket, then pulled out the little booklet, flipping through it, before nodding. “There’s no rule against me wearing the girl’s uniform, professor, nor against a skirt in general.” 

Silence held the room a moment, as Umbridge stared into his eyes, Harry refusing to back down an inch. 

“Mr. Potter, it is inappropriate.” 

Harry blinked, tilting his head to the side. “It covers my knees. That’s the only rule on skirts in here, watch.” He made another little show of him muttering to himself and scanning the page as if looking for the rule. “Here: ‘All skirts worn by the student population must be just above the knees or under’ This one covers my knees, even if I am sitting, so it’s within regulation.” 

Using her love of rules against her seemed to be working. That vein in her head popping out like that can’t be healthy. 

“You should be wearing gender appropriate clothing.” 

“Well, see, that’s not mentioned in the handbook, Professor Umbridge, and there’s no rule against me wearing a skirt, just like there isn’t a rule against someone like Hermione wearing jeans. Gender Appropriate isn’t here, it’s just if it covers the important bits and that’s really it. Surprisingly there is a lot of leeway that is given here…” He mused to himself a moment, before pointing at a section. “Like Here: any jeans worn must be blue or black’ they don’t specify a dark blue, so it could be a lighter color still. And Here! ‘Dragonskin boots must be darkly colored’ Dark blue, dark purple, it all fits, heck, a dark green would work because it’s dark!” He grinned up at Professor Umbridge, who, really, honestly, looked as if she might explode. 

“Detention tonight Mr. Potter, my office at Seven Sharp. For disrespecting authority.” Harry blinked, then nodded a bit. 

“Alright. I was planning on changing back after dinner, but I don’t think I’ll have time now.” He sighed, as if it were the worst thing on the planet to happen, but he didn’t really care. He looked down to his book, but not before catching a final glimpse of Umbridge’s constipated looking face. He barely kept in his laughter the rest of the period.


End file.
